


Rising from the Ashes

by Zaras_muse



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Original Work
Genre: Gen, Other, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 04:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15186419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaras_muse/pseuds/Zaras_muse
Summary: Post-Infinity War, Brunnhilde knows there will be a need for a new group of Valkyries. Callie rises to the challenge.





	Rising from the Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> First work here, no beta reader. Will add chapters as they're ready!

Callie sat alone at the bar. She’d finally convinced the barkeep to just leave the bottle of bourbon with her, instead of having to keep coming back, intruding on her solitude. Not like she was going to drive anywhere.

There was nowhere to go. Nowhere that mattered, anyway.

Finally starting to feel numb, Callie was vaguely aware that someone had sat next to her. A woman, dark hair flowing down her back. Whatever. So long as she didn't start hitting on me, Callie thought, I'm not going to get upset at her sitting next to me. At least with a woman, it was less likely; women who liked women, even drunk, read body language better than men any day. She’d already told two wannabe Romeos to fuck off. Another time, she might flirt back, whoever it was. But not today. Not today.

Callie drained her glass again, and reached for the bottle. Her hand wobbled a bit, and she nearly sloshed the bourbon on the bar instead of in her glass. Would have, if the dark haired woman hadn't reached over to steady her hand.

Callie looked over. “Thanks.”

Deep brown eyes stared into hers, holding her attention, then flicked down to the nearly empty bottle.

“You looked like you could use a friend.” Pause. “I know what it's like to drink to forget.”

Callie bit back the denial she had started to form. No use pretending. Instead, with a deep sigh, she turned to face the other woman with her whole body. It might be good to talk to someone after all. Someone who understood what it was like.

“It's not working, so thanks. I'm Callie, by the way.”  
“Brunnhilda. But call me Brun.”  
“Drink?”  
“Sure.”

Callie poured some of her bourbon into Brun’s glass. Probably best if she didn't finish the entire bottle anyway. At least this time her hand was steady.

“The last six months have been a bitch. Both parents died, two weeks apart. Old age, pretty sudden but not unexpected. Dog died a few weeks later, he was the first I'd raised from a pup. Husband of twenty years up and left, he'd talked about moving to the Caribbean for years, finally decided he was done here. I could have gone with him, but I just couldn't see leaving everything behind. He sent the divorce papers last week, after being there two months. Might have been easier to take if he'd vapourized with half the world, but who knows, right? Either way, he's gone and not coming back. And to top it off, today got laid off. Sorry, “downsized”, as if that makes a difference. Technically, I'm there for another two weeks, they have to pay me for it anyway, but I don't know if I see a point in going in. I don't see a point in much, about now. But I’m sure I’ll see it differently, in the morning. Just needed some time to blank out for a bit, not worry about it. I try not to do this,” gestures towards the bottle with her glass, “too often. But sometimes it’s the only thing that seems to help.”

Brun had leaned back on her stool as I talked, one booted foot resting on the brass pole attached to the bar, other leg crossed over it. Open but not crowding in, which Callie appreciated.

“That is rough. Death, abandonment, loss of livelihood. I can see why you would want to be numb for a time.” She leaned forward. “Myself, it was losing my team, my sisters, and being flung from my home with no way to return. Losing a war that shouldn't have needed to be fought, and years of thinking I was the only one who had survived.” She looked down at her hands, cupped around the tumbler, and Callie saw now that they were calloused and scarred: obviously strong, used to work, and work hard. She looked at Brun overall, paying more attention this time, and noticed the fine lines around her eyes, a few faint scars on her cheeks, though no grey in her hair. For all that Brun didn’t look past her mid-thirties, Callie thought she might be older, though experiences like that would age anyone. Even without drinking to forget, as she’d mentioned.

Callie flinched a little when Brun looked up and caught her eyes again. There was a flicker of something… other… in Brun’s dark brown eyes. Darker, potent. Waiting. Brun caught the flinch, but held her gaze steadily. Weighing, measuring. Waiting.

“That sounds hard. Really hard. Worse than what I’ve been through.” Callie looked down at her own hands, calloused but not as strong, not really knowing what to say. “Makes what I’ve complained about seem… superficial, in comparison.”

Brun shook her head.  
“No, loss is loss. Death is the only one we can be sure of, but that doesn’t diminish the effect of other losses. How you deal with it, how you cope, how you move forward, that is what matters.” She waved at the nearly empty bottle.   
“You think it superficial that on a day that you have been dealt a great blow, that you need something to take your mind off your troubles for a time? I drank to numb the pain for more years than you could possibly imagine. I have only recently begun to reclaim my life. Only recently found a reason to do so.” She paused, weighing Callie with her eyes again, nodding slightly at what she saw. “At least you only do this on occasion, as you say. And you’re willing to rebuild with what is left, move forward.

“Tell me, Callie, have you been paying attention to the world around you, or have you been so focused on your own troubles that you know naught of what is occurring?”

Callie frowned slightly, trying to think of what Brun might be talking about.

“Do you mean, besides Thanos killing off so many people?” Pause. Thoughts about the slight accent, the work-worn hands, talk of endless years. “Wait. Are you… Asgardian? Come here with the refugees?”

Brun smiled broadly for the first time. Proudly, she proclaimed, “Indeed. I brought what was left of our people to safety, after Asgard was destroyed, and Thanos ruined our ship to get to Loki and the Tesseract. I have not had that power for years, but my people’s belief gave me the will to believe in myself again and the courage to try, and it was enough. I am Valkyrie, and for those on the edge of death from battle, I may transport through time and space. Thanks to the connections of Thor Odinson, Midgard was our planned destination, so here we came.”

Callie’s breath had caught when Brun, the Valkyrie, had claimed her title. Even knowing that much of Norse mythology was based in truth, it was still shocking to know you had come face-to-face with a mythic hero, let alone have a conversation with one.

And then to realize that they probably had a reason for choosing to talk to you.

“Why are you here?” She gestured to the bar generally, then added, “Why me?”

Brun nodded again, smiling at the evidence that even deep in drink, Callie was a quick thinker.

“The Valkyrie were once Odin’s most elite warriors. 1500 of your years ago, Hela, Goddess of Death, slaughtered us in her bid to claim the throne of Asgard. Killed Astrid as she shielded me, and nothing I did was enough to avenge her. I ended up on Sakaar through chance, and spent that eternity scavenging and drunk, thinking I was the only one left. The only one to remember, and I did not want to remember. I thought that there would be no home for me even if I could escape Sakaar, and had no wish to face the Goddess in her own realm of Helheim should I die outside of battle.”

Brun took a long drink, rolling the liquor around her mouth, savouring the flavour, before continuing. Callie, though curious, had no urge to rush her. These were hard times, there was no need to make it harder.

She may have told her own story swiftly, starkly, but that was like ripping off a bandaid. Get it over with quickly, and maybe the pain won’t be as bad. But some memories are too painful for that kind of treatment. Move too quickly, you leave a gaping wound that just takes longer to heal. Brun was trying to heal from a centuries-old wound, one slow telling of the truth at a time. Callie took a deep but quiet breath, grounding her own emotions, letting it all wash through her like she had been taught, then using that grounded energy returned to visualize a shield surrounding them, protecting them from eavesdroppers and ill-wishers. She imagined telling the other woman that she was safe, that there was a circle of protection around them… but didn’t, thinking it would be ridiculous that a Valkyrie would need such a thing and be comforted by it.

At last, sighing heavily, Brun continued. “When Loki arrived in Sakaar, I thought nothing of it. That troublemaker could be there for any reason or none; even though he was born after I’d arrived in Sakaar, we still knew of him and his exploits. I avoided him as much as I could, didn’t let him know who, or what, I had been. I watched him get close to the Grandmaster, silver-tongued serpent that he is, and I figured there was some political game being played; I wanted none of it. But when Thor Odinson arrived, something drew me to him. Drunk as I was at the time, I didn’t know who he was at first, only knew that I wanted, needed to be the one to bring him in, to have that initial connection to him. When he told me his name, I knew I was supposed to help him, but I couldn’t bring myself to face whatever it was alone, with none of my sisters-in-arms. And what had that family done for me, but getting everyone I loved killed, and leaving me in exile.”  
Another long pause. There was nothing left in Brun’s glass, and Callie would have topped it up if asked, but Brun just rolled it between her hands along the bottom edge, round and around and around.

“Eventually, Thor convinced me to help him escape, to help him go against Hela, to get revenge for my fallen Valkyries. I thought we had no chance to survive, but if we managed to take her with us, it would be enough. She slaughtered the people of Asgard for not bending to her, raised the dead to fight us and stop the last civilians from escaping, but we managed to prevail. Even if Ragnarok was the end of everything we had known, it was the only way. Though I wonder, Goddess of Death that she was, whether she is truly dead and gone, or simply confined to Helheim now. I hope that murderous bitch is out of the way for good, either way.  
“And now that brings us to you, and why I’m here.”

Brun put the glass down, firmly, and looked at Callie. Took in the hair that was neither as long nor as close to black as her own, skin a shade lighter, eyes a warmer brown. But also the firm set of determination in the jaw, the strong build, the upright posture refusing to bend.

“I was never powerful enough to be a goddess, but I was skilled enough to have rank as a Valkyrie, and what you would term magic enough to get premonitions before battle, premonitions that when heeded, changed the course of battle in our favour. I knew I needed to come here tonight, that I would meet someone that could change the course of the battle to come. That someone is you, if you are willing. Seeing you here, like a reflection of my past, reminds me that the greatest strength comes from overcoming our pasts. We need more warriors, but those who are skilled in more than just war. We need those who can persevere, who can pick up the broken pieces and keep going, who won’t give up just because it gets hard, though any trained warrior does that. We need also those who have a thread of magic to spark new creation. Yes, I felt your circle; you have power, though little trained. We need more Valkyries, and I would choose you, as the first. Will you join me?”

Callie, astounded, said nothing while her mind raced, eyes open but staring inward. There was nothing holding her here. She had never wanted to join the army, didn’t like guns that much, but had tried to defend others when she could. And she’d always liked sparring in kickboxing. The magic, well, being pagan made sense when you had seen some of the gods walking the earth, and knew that others were out there. Some of the energy work had always come naturally, grounding and protection, learning more would be good. Brun herself drew Callie in a way that might be magic, like calling to like, and Callie wanted to know more what that could mean.

She focused her eyes, and gave her answer.


End file.
